


and i felt paris fall in love with me

by mingowow



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, happy birthday xu minghao, vague fashion designer minghao and artist mingyu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 04:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16549250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mingowow/pseuds/mingowow
Summary: "sitting there, alone in a foreign country, far from my job and everyone i know, a feeling came over me. it was like remembering something i'd never known before or had always been waiting for, but i didn't know what." - paris, je t'aimeminghao meets a friendly stranger in the city of love.





	and i felt paris fall in love with me

**Author's Note:**

> a quick little one-shot to celebrate minghao's birthday. happy birthday, bub! you are so so so loved.
> 
> unbeta'd, my apologies! 
> 
> please enjoy! ^^

The post flight feeling is usually an awful one. 

Minghao's face always feel slick with oil, his hair flat and greasy, usually matted from his failed attempts at an in-flight snooze. Airline food doesn't agree with him half the time so he settles for safe things, like water and coffee and the occasional prepackaged bread since it's usually a safe bet. So naturally he's starving by the time he's stumbling down the plane aisle with his carry-on, mumbling a thank you to the hostess that sees him off with a practiced smile.

There's a crick in his neck that he tries to relieve by obnoxiously rolling his head back and forth and once he makes his way through immigration, it seems to have worked itself out. 

That is until he gets to baggage claim and feels something pull again when he hefts his suitcase up off the conveyor belt.

He has to shuffle around his wadded up ticket, passport, and wallet to find his phone as he finally exits the airport and takes his first breath of Parisian air. 

It doesn't feel any different as it fills his lungs; he didn't really expect it to, but the build up of _finally_ visiting Paris after over a decade of pining too... he had silly hopes in the back of his mind.

When he checks his phone, he realizes he got through all the red tape a lot faster than he had been anticipating. It's only a little after 10PM.

When he hails a cab, he attempts to say hello and ask the driver to take him to his hotel in his very limited (and very poorly pronounced) French. He had been practicing it for weeks before the trip but it appears his exhaustion is getting the better of him. So he settles on his slightly more reliable English and the driver finally understands.

As a fashion designer (aspiring one is perhaps more accurate, if he factors in professional success), he's always been drawn to the idea of visiting and showcasing his work in Paris.

But more than that, it's always been a bit of a mystical place to him, ever since he was young: the romance and artistry, a world that seemed so untouchable to him for whatever reason. It was always a dream of his to at least visit Paris and now, two hours away from 26 years old, here he is.

He hadn't imagined his first impression of the city of his dreams being hazy behind his exhaustion and a strong need to scrub his face. But he supposes that's what he gets for slaving over work up until four hours before his flight so that he could essentially unplug from everything work-wise and enjoy his trip. Funny how preemptive measures backfire like that sometimes.

With his eyes closed and head resting against the window, he hears the rain outside before he sees it. But when he does open his eyes, he has to sit up properly because the sight outside his window is so simple yet incredibly beautiful. 

It's a combination of the raindrops sliding down the glass and the halo effect of the light lamps as the taxi races by them. It's a sight he knows he's seen, in many different cities in many different countries, but seeing it _here_ , finally... it's a bit magical. Enough so to have him smiling to himself.

He feels lighter once they enter deeper into the city and when they arrive at his hotel, a rather lavish but still vintage feeling building, his mood lifts even more. He swipes his bangs back off his forehead, the sprinkling of rain causing them to stick to his skin. He feels fresher, more alert now, confident enough to thank the driver in French. Near perfectly, he tells himself with a mental pat on the back.

Once in his room, he washes off the airplane grime from his skin, swapping his clothes for items that don't have stale air stench clinging to them. The alarm clock next to the bed blinks at him that it's just 11:28 and Minghao knows he should pass out, get some much needed rest and start his vacation off properly tomorrow...

But he feels awake now and when he pulls back the sheer curtains of his room's windows and sees the lights below, the architecture lit up yet half hidden in shadows, the couples strolling along the street huddled together under umbrellas... he wants to be a part of it. Now.

He doesn't have an umbrella but he asks the front desk for one and while he doesn't have a destination in mind, he's more than fine with wandering around tonight. The streets are quiet sans some music drifting out from various pubs and restaurants. He's still hungry, something he's reminded of when his stomach growls at the scent of something savory and delicious wafting about in the night air. But right now, his curiosity is winning out.

Minghao admires the wrought iron fences as he walks alongside them, the smooth white stone buildings and overhanging autumn trees with red and orange leaves. He's a bit annoyed at himself for not remembering to pull his camera out of his bag to bring along. But tonight, iPhone pictures will have to suffice. 

The rain is still lightly sprinkling when he comes upon the Seine and a stretch of recreational area alongside it. He's reminded of Hangang and his lazy summer days spent at the parks that were littered all along its edges, his afternoons filled with lounging in the grass, sketching designs and random doodles. He smiles at the fond memories of his college days before hopping the short fence to walk along the bank. 

There's a dusting of wind-strewn fallen leaves along the ground, wet and stuck together like sheets of thin paper. It's beautiful enough to him that he squats down, umbrella resting against his shoulder as he positions his phone and snaps various angled shots of the sight before him.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to crouch under a black umbrella on a dimly lit path in the late night rain, but that doesn't seep into Minghao's mind until he feels something push against his umbrella and into his back, causing him to tumble forward onto his knees and hands, phone tumbling down with a less than comforting _crack_.

"Oh. Oh no, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" someone asks in English, frantically. He can't see the male but he feels someone pull the umbrella off his shoulder and tiny droplets of rain land all over his now exposed head. 

"I'm okay," he replies back, brushing his hands off on his long black jacket and checking his pants. A few leaves have stuck to the material but the wetness he feels on his kneecaps is unseen in the darkness. 

The rain is still pelting him though and when he looks up, all he can make out is the silhouette of someone looming above him, his (the hotel's) umbrella held up above the stranger's head.

The guy is gracious enough to gently grab his arm and help him stand but Minghao is quick to remove his limb from the grasp. He blinks the rain from his eyelashes and takes a good look at the stranger, whose face is contorted it what appears to be a mixture of concern and embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't see you," the man says with a small, sheepish smile, his free hand rubbing at the back of his neck. The other is still holding the umbrella. Minghao shakes his head in dismissal. 

"Um, my uh,--" the English word slips Minghao mind so he settles for pointing up at it. 

"Oh! Right, sorry." The guy lets out a small laugh before shuffling forward and holding the umbrella over both of them. Minghao's hand hovers open in the air, waiting for it to be passed to him, but it isn't. "Are you hurt?"

Minghao lets out a little sigh and shakes his head once, letting his hand fall down. His mood isn't dampened per se, but he hadn't accounted for having any extended interactions tonight, least of all with someone who, he assumes, isn't French. 

"My name is Mingyu," the stranger says, hefting his shoulder bag up higher before unnecessarily waving with the other. He smiles widely, he teeth nearly glowing despite the lack of proper light.

The name Mingyu sticks in Minghao's mind, recalling a classmate of his from his university days in Seoul. They weren't close at all but it brings back a few vague memories.

"Are you Korean?" he asks in the second language he is much more comfortable with.

It seems to take Mingyu by surprise considering the way his eyes widened and his lips part slightly before he nods, vigorously.

"Yeah! You can speak Korean?"

"I lived in Seoul for a while," Minghao explains rather than answer directly. Mingyu is still smiling at him widely and Minghao only realizes he's staring at his face when in he notices raindrops sitting on the lenses of his glasses. 

He wipes at them messily with his fingertips, feeling... not uncomfortable. Just oddly alert.

"Wow, really? That's awesome! God, it's nice to speak Korean. I haven't gotten to in weeks. Well, except when I call my mom and sister, but not really in person." Mingyu pauses. "What's your name?"

Minghao wants to reach up and slyly take his umbrella back into his own hand but his eyes keep wandering to the other man's face and he gets distracted each time. "Minghao."

He's curious as to why Mingyu is in Paris, if for no reason other than the world seems so small suddenly. But he doesn't know the guy at all and it's frankly none of his business.

And there's the fact that he doesn't seem to have his own umbrella, instead using the one he all but stole from Minghao. 

"So, Minghao, what brought you to Paris?" Clearly Mingyu doesn't think the same as far as personal business.

Minghao hesitates on whether to answer truthfully or not but he figures his options are one of two at the moment: one, he hastily snatches his umbrella and takes off back to his hotel room, forgetting this encounter and finally putting himself to bed. Or two, humor the friendly stranger's questions and have his first, of hopefully many, pleasant interactions on his trip.

"I'm here on vacation. A treat to myself, I guess," he explains simply with a small shrug

Mingyu's head cranes forward and Minghao realizes then how close they are to one another. He can feel a soft puff of warm breath against his nose when Mingyu speaks again.

"A treat? What's the special occasion?" 

"Just my birthday." It sounds dumb now that he admits it aloud but it's the truth, this whole trip was excused as being a much deserved birthday present to himself after years of school and working himself to the bone. 

Mingyu's head cocks to the side and Minghao finds himself smiling, albeit awkwardly. "It's your birthday? When? Today?"

"Um, tomorrow." 

Mingyu slips the umbrella handle under his chin and holds it there as he fishes around for something in his pocket, eventually pulling out his phone. The screen illuminates his face with its bluish light and Minghao hates how his mind yells at him how handsome the other is.

"It's almost tomorrow!" Mingyu exclaims, showing off his phone screen, the umbrella spinning under its hold of his jaw. His skin folds over, giving him the illusion of a double chin. It's rather endearing.

And sure enough, the clock reads 11:57 in front of a wallpaper of Mingyu himself with his cheek smushed against some tongue wagging, golden-colored dog.

Minghao doesn't know what to say so he simply shrugs again. Mingyu's face lights up with some emotion and suddenly Minghao finds himself being dragged over to a nearby bench. It's wet and littered with fallen leaves but Mingyu plops down on it anyway. He seems to catch Minghao's hesitance because he looks between him and the wet seat before wiping it off with the length of his own coat before patting it, encouraging Minghao to sit.

It's a simple gesture but Minghao is oddly touched by it, so he sits, slipping back under the umbrella's protection.

They are huddled all too close together for two strangers to be but Mingyu doesn't seem bothered by it at all. 

He's rummaging through his large messenger bag, pulling out random smaller bags and a few folders, one of which is clear and Minghao can make out the faint lines of a landscape drawing. It's a large lake surrounded by trees, leaves flitting through the air. He smiles a little to himself.

"Aha!" Mingyu all but shouts, pulling out a long, slim violet-colored box. It looks like it's been crushed or at least tossed around inside the bag. "It's not cake but it will have to do."

As he opens the box, the umbrella rolls off his shoulder and lands on Minghao's, droplets of rain flicking off the edges in a circle around them. Minghao notices then how quiet their surroundings are and he feels it's all too intimate. But he can't deny that it feels rather... nice.

Showing off the contents, a line of brightly colored macarons, Mingyu picks out a pink one on the end. They clearly have had a bit of a tumble in his bag, given that they are slightly cracked and crumble a little between the other's large fingers.

"What flavor do you like?"

Minghao has never been a big lover of sweets, let alone macarons, but he's too moved by the other's unexplainable kindness to refuse. 

"Any is fine," he dismisses. The answer doesn't seem to sit well with Mingyu by the way he lightly scoffs before replacing the pink treat and scanning the others, humming to himself. Minghao watches him silently, as if he's not there himself. It feels weirdly out-of-body.

"You seem like the pistachio type to me," Mingyu says with a smile that has his canines poking out. He gently blows off the crumb dust from the light green confection in his open palm, holding it out in front of Minghao's face.

His other hand pulls out his phone again and he lets out a little squeal when the screen lights up.

"Exactly midnight! Quick, make a wish!" 

Minghao blinks at him and lets out a small laugh. "A wish? There isn't anything to blow out."

"It's fine! Just pretend. Quick, before it's 12:01!" Mingyu nudges his shoulder with his own, the umbrella rattling between them before settling in the slight crack between their arms. Minghao can feel rain dropping onto his legs but he's so unbothered by it at this point.

With a small sigh, he lets his eyes fall closed and thinks up a wish, the first one that comes to his mind, before letting out a small puff of air across the palm of Mingyu's hand.

When his eyes flutter back open, Mingyu is grinning at him, wet hair dripping down in front of his face. 

"Happy birthday, my new friend," Mingyu tells him before offering him the macaron. Minghao's stomach does a little flip and he tells himself it's hunger even though he knows better.

Still, he gingerly picks up the makeshift birthday cake with two fingers and takes a bite, his wish lingering in the front of his mind. He thinks maybe it was a good, realistic one to make.

"Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/gyuwuhao)


End file.
